


100 things - #3 (Warehouse 13)

by lil_1337



Series: 100 Things [3]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the LJ comm 100 things. A series of 100 drabbles/short fics, each in a different fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	100 things - #3 (Warehouse 13)

"Damn it!"

Steve yelped and jerked his hand back at the sharp pain that went through his hand. Without thinking he shoved his injured fingers into his mouth and began sucking on them much like a petulant toddler. The shelf he had been exploring was at an awkward height, high enough he had to stretch to see on it and low enough that standing on the wheeled ladder meant he had to bend over. He had opted to trust to his limited sight in favor of not having a sore neck and shoulders which, obviously, had not been a good plan.

After a minute or two and the flash of realization that if Claudia saw him everyone would have the picture in about five seconds flat, Steve pulled his fingers from his mouth and eyed them carefully. There was a single drop of blood on the end of his middle finger where it had been poked by something sharp, but other than that everything appeared undamaged. Warehouse 13 was indeed a warehouse with the potential for injury inherent with it. However, it had the added risk of poking your finger on an artifact and as a result attempting to take over the world and that had him feeling a little nervous.

Then again he might end up doing something less dramatic like sleeping for a 100 years.

He yawned, the jaw cracking kind that come with exhaustion, then frowned. He'd slept well the whole week and he'd barely been on the job today for three hours. Another yawn followed, this one wide enough to bring tears to his eyes. Not wanting to risk the ladder he stretched as far up on his tiptoes as possible and craned his neck to look at the back of the shelf. Sure enough there was a worn wooden spindle with a card next to it. He could barely make out the words 'Beauty' and "Grimm' as his eyelids had suddenly become so heavy a professional muscle man couldn't lift them.

"Fuck. That was such a Shirley move." He muttered, unable to work up the energy to respond the way the situation required. Eyes closed and head lolling he slid down to rest in a boneless heap on the floor.

His next to the last thought before giving up the fight against sleep was that he was never going to live this down. His final was _If I wake up in a dress Pete is a dead man._


End file.
